Obsidian
by FreakingOutAlways
Summary: Two young girls were left in a car to die. Now they're on a mission with the three most powerful demi-gods of the century, and their mysterious rescuer to save their father. But will they find the answer to the ultimate question? Who is Obsidian?
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth Carter was a very private person. She paid the rent, more or less on time because she was still here and the landlord was very strict, she ordered pizza on a regular basis, frequently argued with the delivery guy about prices,(arguments that usually ended in a passionate kiss) and was never seen, if at all without a pair of long scarlet high heeled boots.

She was hardly ever seen in daylight and mainly wore black, which lead to the ridiculous rumour that she was a vampire, feared by all the young children many of whom accepted the dare to knock on the door of the den where she lay in wait, and if it was opened, that meant they were doomed to die. Many wild and wonderful tales were told about how they had actually ventured inside, and seen the extravagant stone sarcophagus and her body inside, black leather, fangs and all. The children who claimed this were of course instantly popular and their stories became legend. Their parents listened as they sat with the coffee and chocolate cake, exchanging knowing and amused glances.

However, they knew something was wrong with that woman. No-one had even the tiniest inkling of where she had come from or what she did for a living and as far as anyone knew she had no friends, only those granted the privilege of an uninterested 'Hello' in the dank and dark corridors separating the equally dark and dank rooms of the apartments that she lived in. And those children. . .they were even stranger.

She was a beautiful woman who had caught the eye of many men. She had dark, smooth skin, huge, expressive grey eyes and big, pouty pink lips, a startling contrast to her shining red curls. She always had been good looking, going from adorable, to cute, to pretty, to completely beautiful and what was more, she knew it and she loved it.

She lost her virginity at the age of thirteen when she had hit puberty early and the boys in the class had suddenly realised, 'Hey, she's a girl' and once she had woken up, couldn't even remember his name by the following night. From that point on, her life spun out of control, in a downward spiral of drink drugs and sex, causing her parents to become withdrawn and ashamed of the little girl they had once cherished above all else.

When she was six-teen she ran away, wanting to live life in the big city, without rules or regulations and without the smothering of her parents. She soon discovered that independence meant _you_ had to else had to cook the food, you had to pay the rent and you also had to pay the bills. By the end of her first month, she was living solely on pot noodle and her electricity had been cut.

Six months later she was pregnant due to another one night stand, this one more unusual than any other, giving birth to twin baby girls seven months later. For better or for worse, they were nothing like her in appearance or in personality. The only resemblance Elizabeth shared with them was their dark skin. Crimson and Ciera's eyes were a slightly dark shade of turquoise, their hair so blond it was almost white.

After another nine, she was a monster. Not like those in well-worn paperbacks, with fiery breath, sharp claws and fierce teeth. But one of those women who didn't give a damn about what they did to get their next fix, as long as they got it, sleeping to whoever offered the most and beating her kids to near death because _she_ made a mistake, because of who _she_ slept with. Before Crimson and Ciera's fourth birthday, they had lost their charming youthfulness. Gone were the beaming smiles and innocent laughter because even as children they knew.

They could only have one kind of life and not a single person could be bothered to even try and do anything about it.

Tonight was one of those nights where no-one in the apartment block slept. Hysterical shrieks punctured the midnight silence, followed by petrified yelps and sickening slapping sounds. Throughout the building, residents buried their heads in their pillows praying to any god that would listen. Some stayed up to do the crosswords, drank cocoa, did the washing or the ironing and most simply turned the TV up as loud as they could. Children were brought into their parent's bed where their hair was stroked and they were told lovely stories of princesses in towers and brave knights that defeated the baddies to drown out the screaming coming from above.

**CIERA'S POV**

'FREAK'

Ciera gave a startled yelp as the palm of her mother's hand made contact with her cheek. The force was so great; it snapped her head to side and back so it hit the wall that she was leaning on. Ciera knew that was going to bruise, which was great, now she could have a matching set. It would go with the ones marring her chest and those circling her biceps. Yay.

She couldn't even remember what she had done this time. Mom had come in, taken off one shoe, chucked it at Ciera's head and had then proceeded to go completely bananas. It got a little bit blurry from there, a swirling Picasso of blood and fists and pain.

Eyes defiant, Ciera spat blood, aiming it perfectly so it landed in her mom's smirking face. The smirk disappeared, one corner of her mouth raised in an ugly sneer, raising one track marked wrist and hand and wiping at her eye, ringing it away and looking in disgust at the scarlet sludge, thickened by saliva marring her skin her eyes smouldering with rage.

Ciera's Mom turned and bent, retrieving from a tangle of wood and shattered glass, a mostly together table leg. It was surprisingly heavy, and splinted at the end and in her mom's grip, hands slightly trembling as always it looked as if it belonged there. Ciera tried to keep her face blank and devoid of all emotion. But she her body betrayed her, she felt her breath quicken, her eyes widen. Ciera saw the look of twisted amusement marring her mom's deceptively lovely face and knew her mom saw her daughter's eyes spark with terror and the pleasure it seemed to bring her made Ciera subconsciously move even further against the wall.

As she saw her Mom raise the wood and felt goose bumps rack her body like she had been dumped in an ice-cold bath Ciera honestly thought this was the end.

'I can't believe it' she thought to herself. 'Everything I've been through, everything I've survived I'm going to be clobbered to death by a bloody table leg from the coffee table!' And then a familiar figure came into her vision, Crimson, Ciera's twin sister, sitting up groggily, her unfocussed eyes taking in the scene before her.

Ciera could practically see the images flick through Crimson's mind. Mom standing over her with the bloody log, raised and ready to bash her head in. Ciera saw her twin's eyes widen and then narrow, saw the fury ignite and watched in astonished disbelief as Crimson gave a feral snarl of rage, stagger to her feet and rugby tackle their mother to the floor somehow in one fluid movement.

That was Crimson. All fists and fight rather that retreat and safety. They were different like that. Crimson's hair was in tight spiral curls whilst Ciera's was ramrod straight.

Momentarily stunned, their mom quickly retaliated, driving a knee into Crimson's stomach and a fist into her face. Outraged, Ciera jumped in on the pile, piggy-back style, locking her skinny arms around the slender neck and squeezing. They had forgotten about the club. Elizabeth rolled over, grabbed the discarded wooded weapon and swung it. Crimson only saw the colourless blur, and heard the sickening crunch as it made contact. Crimson's eyes rolled back and she became as boneless as a super noodle, slumping in a heap on the floor.

Ciera crawled to her sister's prone form, not aware of her Mom's cruel, uncaring sniff or insane cackle of laughter that echoed of the thin walls.

Crimson's hair was slowly turning pink and sodden with blood. Ciera's hands hovered uselessly over her, not sure of what they were doing. The brain was not sending them orders due to the fact that IT WASN'T WORKING! There was also the fact she seemed to have swallowed concrete as there was a solid pain in her throat and her eyes were blurry, something hot running down her face.

Ciera slapped herself over the head, wiping at her eyes.

'Get over yourself girl' she told herself sternly. 'Crimson needs you, you _cannot_ fall apart'

There was one thing she could do. She didn't like doing it, but she had been left with no other option

Nervously, Ciera placed a hand over the place where the blood seemed to be coming from, resisting the urge to empty her stomach when she felt how the skull had caved in. She didn't think Crimson would appreciate it if she woke u covered in regurgitated 'choc full of popcorn'

Ciera hesitated. What she was about to do was the reason their mother hated them so much. Well one of the reasons they had been told. The freaky gifts, their father, the dyslexia, (like she gave adman about their marks) ADHD and forever being stalked by creepy dudes with only one eye.

Crimson was better at this. She'd had more practise. Crimson could never keep her big mouth shut, resulting in far more pains and sores than her sister, resulting in the apparent ease that she could do it with, to herself and to others.

But seeing how she was unconscious with a probable brain injury and most positively almost definitely dying, the responsibility now belonged to Ciera. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the shattered pulp that was her sister's head, glad that she could no longer see the blood covering her hands like gloves, and concentrated on summoning the power that lingered under her skin, humming and vibrating. When she opened them again she inhaled shakily, amazed at the impossible sight before her.

Her hands were glowing. The horrible red was now gone, replaced by gold, similar to that of candle light, but a zillion times stronger and brighter. It illuminated the whole room, the dull grey becoming silver, Crimson's body a slightly darker shadow in the centre. When the glow finally abated and Ciera was able to lower her hands from where they had been shielding her eyes.

Exactly two hours later, Crimson opened her eyes with a loud gasp, at the same time sat up, her messy curls now coloured pink hanging in her face making her seem that bit more wild. Her eyes seemed to search every shadow, every corner for a potential attacker.

Then Crimson felt her head, combing back the tangles, her panic draining, turning into panic. Then she glared full force at her sister, clearly asking mentally, 'How the hell did the agony of being walloped by a hefty bit of wood turn into a pleasant tingling sensation?'

'You know how' Ciera replied irritably, sounding tired even to her own ears.

Crimson's mouth dropped open, in a weird combination of admiration, and shock.

'You idiot' she yelled, making Ciera jump. She got to her feet, starting to pace the room. Ciera was beginning to feel a tad annoyed. The least she could have done was say thank you or sorry. She had been _terrified_ back there. Crimson's blood had covered her hands like paint and all her sister had done so fare was glare and yell.

'No need to thank me or anything' she said dryly. 'And you cannot say anything about being idiotic to me! You were the one who decided to tackle the female equivalent of Godzilla!'

'If I didn't do that, you would be starring in CSI as the murder victim!'

'And if I didn't try to heal you, you'd be a vegetable!'

'And if you had failed it would be a _double_ homicide!'

Crimson collapsed on the filthy sofa, feeling the springs crack and creak, burying her face in her hands and rubbing her eyes wearily. Ciera was struck suddenly, on how old they both acted and how young they really were. Eight years old and they had suffered more than most old men and women of eighty. Personally, Ciera would be eternally grateful if she made it to her ninth birthday. 'She's getting worse sis' Crimson's voice shattered the silence. It had been so thick, Ciera could nearly see the shards falling to the musty carpet, mingling with the fine dust.

'All we need to do to get her going is disturb the dust bunnies. She's gone completely round the twist. She's run down the road and gone around the bend. We won't be so lucky next time. She'll kill us, and no-one is going to give a damn.'

Ciera could hear her sister's voice cracking, trying desperately to stay even. Miserable as their lives were, a death sentence was something neither of them wanted to bear.

'I know' she answered quietly, watching a stray cobweb in the corner, blowing in a non-existent breeze.

'But what can we do? Run away? We've got no money, no relatives and no way of surviving. We wouldn't last a week Crimson and you know it'

Ciera couldn't see Crimson's face, she was turned away, but she could hear the sad smile in her voice as she replied 'I know. But right now, anywhere is better than here.'

And the really miserable thing was, Ciera thought as she watched the cobweb float to the ground, that it was true.

**AN: OK, this is my first story so please be kind. Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated I need all the help I can get. Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you single person who reviewed! Here is chapter 2! Read, enjoy and please review! Please?!**

**Crimson's POV**

Their Mom came back in the earliest hours of the following morning. Crimson was the only one awake, (Ciera had fallen asleep next to her) and was also the one so subtly shift her body so Ciera's silhouette was less visible.

Thankfully, her Mom seemed to be more interested in sleeping than beating up the petrified kid on the couch holding a kitchen knife, and staggered off into the bedroom.

Crimson relaxed, stuffing the kitchen knife back down the back of the sofa and biting her bottom lip. She had been doing this for the past six hours, resulting in her bottom lip being transformed into a bloody mess and causing it to sting painfully every time she touched it. Crimson was thinking about how to get out of their predicament. Ciera was right about there being no money, or relatives. No-one would take in a pair of ragamuffins that turned up randomly on the doorstep, especially ones who would throw knives and liked guns. (Crimson had been banned from every police station in New York after _tha_t little incident)

There was also the fact, that whenever Crimson went outside, she felt as if she was being watched. As if a higher power was sitting up there in the clouds and scrutinizing her like a bug under the microscope. It was weird. It was also frightening.

But then again, so was living here.

Crimson sighed and rolled up her sleeve to peer at the watch underneath it, the luminous glow lighting up her face. 7:30. Mom would be up at 8:00, with a hangover and a raging temper expecting waffles and aspirin. After the most recent debacle, resulting in a shattered coffee table and an emotionally and physically drained sister, Crimson didn't feel like obliging to her requests.

She bent over her sister, feeling a momentary pang that she just couldn't leave her in dreamland, where everything was sparkly and there were no demons or witches to spoil tour day and whispered in her ear.

'Ciera? Come on, it's time to get up.'

Ciera turned over murmuring something about how she didn't want to 'worship the milky bar kid, I don't even like chocolate'

'WHAT!' yelped Crimson and Ciera jumped so hard she rolled right off the sofa.

'What the hell Crim? I was sleeping!' Ciera glared at her sister, or rather, she tried to, but her eyes were still heavy from sleep so far from looking threatening, she looked like a dog who wanted the sausage you were eating. Crimson was standing, mouth agape and pointing an accusing finger!

'You said you didn't like chocolate!'

Ciera sat and stared, completely non-plussed. 'Crim,' she said slowly, moving her mouth more than should be possible for pronouncing a single word. 'I _don't_ like chocolate! It's horrible! Ever since we went completely over the top that one time, and I was up for the rest of the night emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl!'

Crimson's face had adorned a look of wistful recollection. 'Ohhh yeah,' she said vaguely, before snapping shortly,

'This conversation is completely irrelevant to the subject at hand. Get your schoolbag, brush your teeth and get some clothes on, we're going to be late!'

'What's wrong with what I'm wearing?' Ciera cried indignantly, propping herself up on one elbow.

From where she was stuffing a box of sandwiches into a small rucksack, Crimson raised a single eye-brow.

'Have you looked at you clothes yet?' she asked, knowingly.

Ciera looked down and Crimson saw the look of horror at the sight of her favourite t-shirt, covered in dust and grime from rolling on the floor, as well as dry blood, brown now, instead of an alarming shade of berry red. Her jeans were also ripped and bloodied, and both items were creased from the night's kip on the less than spacious couch.

'I'll go get changed' she announced quietly and slunk of into the tiny closet of a room the two shared.

They were almost at the school when it suddenly hit Crimson that, for the first time in their lives, they were actually early for school. She immediately wanted to know why. When Crimson explained, Ciera immediately went off on one of her 'rants'. These were when she would talk non-stop for an extended period of time, the longest one on record, being forty-five minutes.

Crimson rolled her eyes and tuned out, only tuning back in, when they reached the school gates ten minutes later, and hearing only, 'You're crazy'

'Well it has been said' she replied disinterestedly, looking over her shoulder. Where was she? It had been a whole thirty seconds since she had stepped onto the rough gravel of the playground and there was no sign of her nemesis's ugly face.

'You're so _frustrating_!' her sister hissed, crossing her arms childishly.

'Glad I'm doing the whole big sister thing properly then' Crimson said, now craning her neck to see over the swarming crowds, and missing the outraged cry of, 'We're _TWINS!_' as she spotted exactly who she was looking for.

Tyline Oakwood. Ever since the days in the sand pit, Tyline had it out for them, especially Crimson, giving her a concussion with one of the plastic buckets they had been using to build sandcastles. From then on, they had a rivalry, where insults were exchanged and fights fought out. Except, unfortunately for Tyline, Crimson had been raised by the ultimate trainer in 'How to not let insults get to you.'

So until Tyline had snarled something about how their father left them because she was a little brat who scared little children, she got no reaction. Unfortunately for Tyline, Crimson's reaction to this was to shake away Ciera's restraining hands and head-butt her in the stomach, (she would have gone for the face but sadly, she was too small and Tyline was too tall)

Tyline was the almost exact replica of a 90210 bully, except, she wasn't Californian, she wasn't pretty and she definitely wasn't slim. All her friends were brought, not one girl was sincere in their compliments or their worship. It made Crimson glad that she _didn't_ have any friends. Who would want to spend all day talking about make-up and clothes? Ew.

'Well look who it is' Crimson announced, striding up to Tyline and her pack of jackals. 'It's the wicked witch of the west! And her tribe of flying monkeys! Ciera my good minion, man the battlements! Grab the guns! Arm yourselves!'

Ciera, who had by now forgotten their argument completely, (She was funny like that) and was now skipping around in circles screaming, 'Water, water! She must be killed'

With every word, Tyline became a darker shade of purple and by now she was the colour of plums, which was slightly worrying to behold.

'Where's your Mum, ugly?' she snapped, and Crimson was instantly on her guard. 'Too busy being banged up by another gangster? Are you going to have a little bastard brother on the way?'

Crimson's vision became tinted with rage. She was vaugly aware of someone yelling, 'FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT' and another voice screaming, 'Crimson, _**NO!**_' but when the haze dissipated and the anger lifted, she found herself sitting in her Geography classroom, with the teacher, Miss Toppy, staring at her disapprovingly.

Miss Toppy was one of those teachers who seemed to think that if you didn't pay school fees out of your own money and not from benefits, you were unworthy to sit on the same toilet as other children. She herself had dyed blond hair in a perm, wore clothes that simply amplified the fat rolling off her and when she leant over, her skirt was so short, you could see part of her thong.

Now she was babbling on about something to do with erosion and the sea, but Crimson couldn't care less. In the cheap green jotter in front of her she scribbled a note to Ciera.

How did I get here?

She scribbled one back, glancing up to check that they weren't being watched.

I dragged you in. You looked ready to kill Tyline. You were glowing and everything.

Immediately, Crimson was worried. Had someone seen. She was never usually that obvious. It was normally a slightly higher temperature, her power was the healing aspect.

She scribbled back with haste.

Did anyone see?

They didn't seem to no. It was really funny-

It was at that point, the door burst open and the devil stood in the doorway. Elizibeth Carter was wearing a pair of ankle boots, tiny denim shorts and a _very _strappy vest top.

She looked at the twins with murder flaring in her eyes and smiled sweetly at the teacher.

'Excuse' she said, in a a tone that positively dripped poisoned honey, 'I wonder if I could take my girls out of your class? Because they have an appointment you know, at the doctor's? And I really don't want to be late'

Miss Toppy looked at the woman, in a way that plainly said she thought she was a tart.

'Of course' she said in a way that was very insincere. 'Is anything serious?' she asked, in a much too hopeful voice.

'Oh no' Elizabeth replied, her facial expression telling how she hoped that it would be something like the plague. 'Just a check-up. Come along girls'

They didn't move.

'Now' It wasn't shouted, but had an icy quality that froze the hearts of everyone in the room, making breathe in sharply as it touched them.

Immediately, the girls took up their bags and followed them out of the room, with the kind of air that a man sentenced to death adopts, when walking out to the chopping block.

As soon as they were outside, their arms were gripped in a grip of steel and she walked faster, unaware or uncaring of the way she twisted their wrists painfully as she went.

'Mum. . .'

'Shut up'

'But Mum-' a hand shot out and struck Ciera on the cheek, the rings adorning her finger, (that were surely not brought) leaving long, deep gouges in the soft flesh.

'I said, shut the hell up!' she said, quietly, her voice a deadly whisper. 'I woke up with the mother of all hangovers with no aspirin and no coffee. I am this close. . .' she held two, sparkly, manicured nails about half a millilitre apart, 'To throwing you off the apartment balcony! As it is. . .' Her voice trailed off, her eyes going from angry to demonic, her red smeared lips turning upwards in a grin that couldn't bear well and when she spoke again, she spoke to herself, muttering so fast and furious, neither Crimson nor Ciera could hope to understand her.

'You left me with them, you did, and left me. All alone, oh, so alone. No help, no money, abandoned, all alone. So alone No more, they're yours, nothing but trouble, freaks, dangerous. You want them? You save them, I owe them nothing'

The little of this they did catch did absolutely nothing to calm them down and Crimson had an extremely bad feeling about this. Her heart was pumping like crazy; she could see and hear everything. Her senses were on overdrive, she could smell her mother's perspiration and the smell of drink surrounding her like a cloak.

It was in an alley when they saw it. A car. And the trunk was open. That was when Crimson went berserk. She kicked and yelled for help, satisfied when she felt nose cartilage break under her fist and withdrew it to see blood. But, fuelled by whatever insane power she had, Elizabeth overcame them. Before she knew what had happened, Crimson was in the trunk, facing the pale blue sky, her sister being slammed down next to her and then, there was nothing but darkness.

Never ending darkness; pitch black with not the slightest chink of daylight making its way through the cracks. It was so quiet, the only noise being her sister's slow breathing, (She must've been knocked out) and the pounding of Crimson's own heart pounding in her ears. Slowly, Crimson tried to control herself, banishing the thoughts and memories that threatened to overwhelm her, to the back of her mind where they belonged. Crimson didn't want to remember the small, beaten child sealed inside a cardboard box for getting lost in the shopping centre. Crimson also didn't want to remember that with every dust filled breath she took, the closer she got to suffocation.

What felt like days, but was probably mere hours went by. Crimson would have liked to say she remained calm and collected in the duration of it, but the truth is, once of twice she cracked. She went into a fear fuelled frenzy, screaming and sobbing and banging hopelessly on the roof of the metal coffin. As the Los Angeles sun came out and dazzled the world, the trunk became hotter and hotter. If this went on, Crimson thought, dazed, she would die of dehydration before she ran out of air.

As time went on, the smell of sweat permeated the air, and that very same air was becoming very difficult to inhale. Crimson was merely wheezing now, she was so tired; she wanted to go to sleep _so badly_. . .

Suddenly, the blackness was gone. The sky had returned. The air was so longer stale. Someone was pulling her upright and out of the boot, trickling water down her throat. It was cool and refreshing and Crimson found the top of the bottle and sucked it down greedily.

'Careful there!' came a voice. It was a nice voice. Crimson decided she like it. 'Don't drink it all at once! You'll be. . .'

Crimson bent over, and threw up, right over a pair of combat boots and into the drain.

'Sick' finished the voice. Crimson was now feeling rather irritated with the voice. It wasn't her fault she had been sick. Her phyco mother had chucked her in the trunk of a car where she had nearly died from asphyxiation. She looked up, fully intending to tell the owner of 'the voice' this, but the words died in her throat.

The girl crouching in front of Crimson, was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. She reminded Crimson of a fairy, or an elf. Her skin was very white, her features small, delicate and perfect. She was tall, wiry, and athletic looking.

However, some aspects completely ruined the airy fairy image she had, turning it to that of a rebel, or outlaw.

One sleeve of the girl's camouflage jacket was ripped, a filthy, blood-stained bandage showing underneath, a huge bruise was blossoming over one white cheek as well as several small scratches and a whole lot of dirt.

There was also the sword scabbard at her waist, the hilt of which was carved into the head of a dragon and the gun holster strapped to one thigh, which looked incredibly real.

Her eyes too, seemed to scream 'danger', so dark they were almost black and filled with pain and sorrow and seemed to be haunted by a thousand ghosts.

'Come _on_' she said again, a note of urgency now tangible in her voice, tugging on Crimson's wrist. 'They'll be back soon, come _on_!'

Crimson resisted, trying to retreat back against the back wall, but the stranger was a lot stronger than she looked and her grip stayed firm so instead, she settled for leaning right back, putting all her weight on it.

'Who's coming back?' she asked, suspiciously, refusing to trust this stranger with two deadly weapons, 'Who _are_ you?'

The girl ignored that last question and instead answered the first, but not without an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes and murmuring a few choice words under her breath in what sounded like a different language.

'The people who got put you in that boot wanted to stay there for a reason' she said, speaking very fast and very quietly, 'And when they come back, because they will and soon, they will want to finish what they started, which means we have to move. . .' Then, she froze, and slowly turned her head and had her sword out so fast; Crimson didn't even see her get it out. One minute it was in the scabbard and the next it was in the girl's hand, pointing at the two silhouettes that had suddenly speared at the end of the alley.

One of them stepped forward, and spoke in a deep, booming voice that reverberated and echoed of the small, enclosed space of the alley.

'Greetings Demi-gods! My brothers and I have tracked you over many miles! You have evaded us thus far, but now, daughters of the gods, we are hungry, and you shall be lunch!'

As the terrified spectators watched on, the men, who were already rather large, began to grow, upwards and outwards. Before long they were over six metres high, with muscles that had ripped through their clothing leaving only tatters behind. Seemingly out of nowhere, they pulled out a huge, metal canister.

Crimson's eyes widened. She had seen those before, on many of the late night films she had seen to pass the time. But those were movie props, this was the real thing. And it was aimed right at her.

'MOVE!'

So fascinated had she been with the weapon, Crimson had failed to notice the huge, ugly monster had pulled the trigger. The stranger had barrelled her to the floor as an unknown, deadly object passed over their heads and Crimson could smell burning hair.

Almost at once, the girl jumped back to her feet, muttering furiously under her breath, 'Oh, brilliant! As if the flaming cannon balls weren't enough, they've upgraded! Damnit!'

Ducking another stream of blue flame from what appeared to be a super flamethrower, monster sized, the girl plunged her sword into the monster's belly. Or tried to, because as big as they were, they were also fast.

This one in question, had dodged the blade and swiped her sword out from her hand, and was about to brain her with a fist the size of a turkey when she back flipped onto his shoulders and drove a bronze knife that had apparently been up her sleeve, right through the back of his neck and through to the front. With a pained cry, he dissolved into dust!

The remaining big ugly bellowed in rage.

'You shall pay for his death' he roared, lunging forward. Crimson was confused and scared, and by now she had had enough.

'What the _hell_ are they?!' she shrieked, from behind the dumpster where she had crawled when she had been tackled to the ground.

The girl, who had just somersaulted out of the flight path of a fiery missile, (which promptly whizzed past her and blew what remained of the car into smithereens) turned and looked at her incredulously.

'You mean you can see them!' she yelled, over the noise of the loud KABOOM the exploding car created.

'Well they're bloody hard to miss aren't they!? ' She shouted back, 'and, -LOOK OUT!'

Too late. Caught of her guard, the monster had swiped the girl's feet out from beneath her and he stood over her, proclaiming his victory.

'You were foolish, demi-god' he thundered 'You stood no hope of defeating me! I have not been bested in two millennia! The greatest of heroes have cowered before me! Now I shall-'

BANG!

Crimson's hands jumped to her ears, and she felt the searing heat as the monster ignited, disappearing in a tongue of flame. When it died down, there was only ashes, spreading slightly in the breeze. And standing behind them, missing her eye-brows and holding the sword, was Ciera, who had apparently come round a short while earlier, and, noticing the somewhat unusual and rather dangerous situation they were in, had proceeded to creep around them without either of them noticing, picking up the discarded sword of the way and running the unknown monster through with it.

There was a stunned silence. Crimson became aware that her mouth was wide open, and quickly snapped it shut, hoping that no-one had seen.

The girl slowly clamoured to her feet again, favouring her left foot, Crimson noticed, and not her right. The girl limped forward, nudging the still slowing ashes with one foot. 'Weird' she said quietly, frowning slightly and looking puzzled. '_Really_ weird'

Ciera had found her tongue again. It was a pity, Crimson mused silently, that not even oxygen deprivation could stem her sister's unending babble.

'Weird?!' she screeched, at a rather alarming volume. 'Weird? What exactly, is weird? I pass out in the near airless trunk of a criminals car where I was locked in and left to die by my loopy mother? Or is it the fact I woke up to find so mentioned car on fire and myself sitting in the gutter in a pool of my own vomit? Or was it the huge dinosaur/human hybrid with a great big flamethrower deluxe? Or maybe it was whacko girl with a sword doing some fancy fighting and gymnastics with my sister sitting behind a dumpster and screaming bloody murder!'

Ciera had apparently run out of breath to do much more yelling, instead, leaning against the wall and thankfully lowering the sword, (which had been waved about rather energetically to make her point) panting.

'Actually,' the girl said slowly, 'It's neither of those points. What's strange is the fact that they exploded. They've never done that before' She shrugged.

'Must've been the silver. Now come on! Laestrygonians rarely come in pairs, there'll be more, and in greater numbers.' The girl looked up nervously at the rapidly darkening sky.

'It's full moon tonight' she added, her eyes still heavenward.

'Why does that matter?' said Crimson irritably. She was now officially in a bad mood. She had been locked in a trunk, rugby tackled, shoved behind a dumpster (which ponged to high heaven) and her hair had been rather badly singed. And all in the past fifteen minutes. Whilst she was on the subject of that. . .

'What did he mean, 'demi-gods' ' she asked, jerking her head at the smouldering ashes, looking curious.

The girl stared at her as if she was rather stupid.

'Oh dear' she sighed, exhaling heavily. 'Look, we're in Los Angeles, the city where werewolves dwell. Some of them are rabid, some try to separate themselves from ordinary people, but all of them are deadly and none will show mercy. Why do you think I have a silver sword?'

Looking at it now, Crimson could indeed see that one half of the long, elegant blade shone sliver, whilst the other, gave off burnished bronze shine.

'If we go with you,' Ciera began slowly, 'Where will you take us'

The girl's eyes became sad. 'If you come with me, I can get you somewhere where no monsters will get you, where you can control your gifts, meet others like you. Where you can be given a home.'

The twins gazed at her wistfully. To have something even close to a home would be too good to be true, and none wanted to have another run in with those monsters again.

However. . .

'Mum will find us' Crimson said miserably. 'She always does'

The girl smiled. It was a strange smile. It was like she hadn't done it for a long time, and had almost forgotten.

'Your mother is included in the whole protection scheme, girls. These people will protect you, you'll never have to see your mum again if you don't want to.'

Ciera looked confused. 'But she's not a monster'

The girl smiled again, this time sadly. Crimson noted that this one came a whole lot more easily.

'You don't have to be big and ugly to be a monster honey. Now, let's go'

She turned and made toward the alley exit.

'Wait!' Crimson cried, grabbing her by the trouser leg.

'oh, what now?'

'You still haven't told us your name yet! _Or_ what demi-gods are!'

The girl raised her eye-brows and asked impatiently, 'If I tell you my name, will you come with me somewhere safe where I can answer _all,_' she looked pointedly at Ciera, (who looked ready to go off on one of her twenty questions a second rounds,) 'Your questions and queries and let me get at least a _little_ bit of sleep?'

Crimson nodded impatiently. 'Yeah, yeah sure, but just tell me your name quick, it's really frustrating having to call you, 'the girl' in my mind all the time.'

'Obsidian'

'Huh?'

Obsidian blew a dark strand of hair from her face and looked down at the small, heart shaped face with charred curly hair, glaring up at her.

'That's my name' she said slowly, trying desperately to sound patient and ignore the distant police or firemen sirens, that were becoming increasingly louder, as they got closer and closer to their target.

'My name is Obsidian. And we really, _really_ need to go'

**OK! Well, now you've met Obsidian, but is that really her real name? Why does she have a gun? Whose child is she? All these questions will be answered in later chapters, but for now, READ AND REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Good lord that took a while. And now mum is asking me to go get more milk. ****_Well!._** **Sorry it's been so long, school has been horrible. Hope you enjoy, read and review!**

Obsidian was having a really bad day. She had woken up in the middle of a marsh, fought to the death against a hydra for a pack of sugared Monster Doughnuts, (She won, the hydra was not so lucky)

Then she had hiked halfway through the desert to LA where she had come across two girls locked in the trunk of a car. That part was new. Obsidian had met many demi-gods on her travels. If she passed the border to Camp Half-blood she would most likely be swamped by a mob of old friends screaming her name. But none had been abandoned in such a callous and callous manner. If she ever met the bitch who did it. . . .

Well. The consequences of her actions would be most unfortunate. Obsidian already had many deaths on her conscience. What was one more?

Anyway, after fighting of a small tribe of Laestrygonians with upgrades, (boy did she hate Gaia) she had sprained her ankle, (which hurt like a pit scorpion) and then had to deal with a hysterical child waving _her_ sword in Obsidian's face and shooting of questions like bullets, and her twin, a moody seven year old who threw up on her shoes and had the mental age of a teenager. Both had question. Both were Demi-Gods. Both were annoying.

Now she trekking down the back alley of a skanky neighbourhood, with one twin slung over her back, thumb in mouth and snuffling in her sleep, the other she held by the hand, barely standing, eyes flickering shut.

Obsidian sighed and looked up at the sky. It wasn't as if it was the Kids' fault that they were only seven and therefor didn't have the same stamina that she did. But what was the point of ADHD if it didn't keep you bouncing of the walls when you needed to? The young teenager looked up at the sky. It was orange, with streaks of Indigo against out along the vast expanse of space. The moon would be out soon. And when it did, Obsidian and the girls would be werewolf kibble.

She pursed her lips in frustration and quickened her pace as much as she could with the equivalent of two life sized rag dolls behind her. Many people owed her many favours. Some were less than honourable. But this Guy? He was something else altogether. She wouldn't ordinarily go near him with a ten foot javelin.

Obsidian staggered to a halt outside a nightclub. The neon sign, already lit like a beacon, (that was murder on both her eyes and her dyxlexia) read:

MILLARD'S HOUSE OF FUN

'Sicko' she murmured in disgust. Trust Brandon Millard, the creep, to build his own brothel for personnel pleasure.

She knelt down and gently slid Crimson off her back and onto the grey pavement, spotted with chewing gum and bird crap. She tapped the girls face sharply a couple of timed to wake her up. The kid lunged forwards, wide-eyes and panicky, going slightly pink when she realized it was Obsidian that she had about to readily attack.

'Do you want me to get Ciera?' she asked in a small voice, pointing to her near comatose twin, who was sitting chin to chest against the building's wall.

'Sure hon' Obsidian answered trying to ignore the girls's trembling hands and kicking herself in the shin.

Of course the kid would freak out. She had been slapped about for as long as she could remember. Being given harsh awakenings would have been routine.

'She'll be less likely to attack you'

Crimson flushed a bit more and bent over her sister, poking her in the ribs. Ciera sat up with a yelp, and, after rubbing her eys blearily, sent a glare towards her smirking twin. Obsidian couldn't help but smile a little herself.

She would have to remember that one.

'OK, listen up' she said sharply and two copies of the same face, immediately ceased their sniping, and looked up to her, enraptured. If she was honest, Obsidian found it slightly creepy. But Obsidian wasn't honest anymore. Not to allies. Not to enemies. Not to herself.

'This douche' she pointed upwards at the merrily glowing sign,

'He ows me a favour. But he's a sneaky pig and your safety cannot be guaranteed'

The two faces became solemn. Obsidian felt horribly like an Army general, giving a suicide mission to two loyal soldiers.

'Therefor' she continued looking at them with no-nonsense scrutiny. 'You will do the following. Stay close to me, behind me. Do not separate. Do not make eye contace. Let me do the talking. And if anyone comes too close for comfort, kick em in the balls'

The twins nodded seriously in unison.

'Right then. Follow me'

She opened the door and stepped inside, hand on the sword at her waist. The bar smelt of a mix between sweaty socks and toxic waste. If she lit a match in there, Obsidian was certain that it would go up in an almighty KABOOM!.

A haze of cigarette smoke smothered the room like a fog. Obsidian felt as if she had smoked fifty of them simply by breathing. All in all, even without the pot bellied dwarves leering at her, or the scantily dressed women swinging around poles, this was not Obsidian's element. She hated it. Nevertheless, she strode forward, the girls trotting along in hre wake until she got to the bar, a filthy, dust slab of chrome, a huge man of muscle standing virgil behind It with his back to her. She tapped it, making sure to wipe her hand afterwards on her shirt. He turned.

'What can I getcha mate-'

His mouth fell open. Obsidian snorted quietly. Typical Ares scum.

'You look exactly like your father when you do that' she commented seating herself on a ripped barstool.

'Really?'

Brandon sounded pleased

'It wasn't a compliment'

His idiotic grin faded to a scowl.

'What do want?' he grunted, busying himself with a filthy beer glass and an even filthier rag.

'I want a room'

His eyebrows shot right up.

'Is that so?'

Obsidian let out a loud puff of air. 'It's full moon tonight and Michelle's place is over two miles away.'

Brandon scoffed. 'Please. You're the fastest person I know. You could rival Artemis herself and you're trying to tell be you couldn't make it before sundown? Don't fool about'

Obsidian nodded her assent to his words. 'By myself, yes I could make it. But with two others? It's not so easy.'

Brandon, for the first time, seemed to notice the two girls curled around Obsidian's stool, being to small to get their own. Obsidian recognized that horrible shine in his eyes and slammed a fist down on the table, her tone harsh and sharp.

'A room Brandon! Now! And I don't want your goons within two metres of the place. Got it?'

Brandon smirked.

'Does that count me too?' he asked, his eyebrows twitching suggestively. It made him look like a squirrel was running about on his face, but Obsidian didn't find anything about the situation amusing. She had tensed, become unbelievably still.

_'Don't kill him ,don't kill him, don't kill him' _She chanted in her head, trying to keep calm. The son of a bitch was still talking.

'because, you're stunning, and those girls, such pretty young things'

His hand was creeping towards her. She watched it, like a cat about to pounce. It was mere inches away from her. He was going to do it, he was going to touch her, it could not be allowed. . .

With a scrape of metal and a flash of silver, Brandon had his back against the wall, clutching his now deeply cut hand and Obsidian stood, sword in hand and glaring at him with divine hatred. Brandon looked about for help, but he saw none come. Three bikers were playing snooker didn't give hima single glance and the rest were all belching loudly and chugging beer down their flabby, unshaven throats.

Obsidian was panting hard, nostrils flared, eyes blacker than ever.

'That was a warning Brendan!' she snarled.

'Try it again and you'll lose the whole hand!'

Brandon laughed with mockery. 'You can't try anything here _Obsidian_' He said the name like it was an insult. 'There are too many witnesses, even you aren't that stupid'

Obsidian's eyebrows rose at the challenge. She lunged forward, Brandon squeaked in terroe and the sword was embedded in the chrome as if it was melted butter. 'Mamorax silver.' She told him quietly. 'Only Demigods and Werewolves see it. Only Demigods and Werewolves feel it. The mortals wouldn't see the effects. They would merely see you asleep, resting. It would be a while before they lugged you decomposing corpse to the city morgue!'

Brandon's eyes were penny round with terror, as big as Drachmas. Sweat beaded his forehead and his pupils had shrunk to the tiniest of pinpricks. The child of the God of War, reduces to a blubbering mess.

He fumbled at his belt with a bunch of keys and tossed one of the largest to her. She caught it and pulled her sword out of the bar, (the movement reminiscent of Arthur and _The Sword in the Stone_ ) and slid it neatly back into its custom made sheath and walked out of the door labelled, **ROOMS, BOOK FOR TWO DAYS NOTICE!** the twins following her, holding onto each other tightly.

He watched her go, relief washing over him like hot water on a cold day. He didn't notice the angry goddess, scowling at him from across the room. He wouldn't know about the seething deity until he woke up the next day, shrieking with agony, and missing a hand. There was a note on the bedside table.

_KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF_

**Hope you liked it. Any guesses as to who Obsidian's mother is? PM me your opinions.**


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